Time passed. The rain stopped.
Under a blood-red sky, everyone rose—silent, tense, prepared for a mission that could very well be their last. Bonnds moved quietly, prepping the last functional Metabus for departure.
But Ji Ung stepped forward with a different plan.
"I have an idea," he said. "Let Naran and I enter the Wolves Den alone. If we're not back before it rains again… assume we're dead."
It was bold—and dangerous. But it would give Coroules time to recover his mana and offered a stealthier, more efficient approach to locating the Lansing Steel.
Coroules understood immediately. Ji Ung wasn't just taking a risk—he was buying time. Preserving what was left of their team.
He nodded. "Understood. But be careful."
And so, Ji Ung and Naran began their descent into the Wolves' Den, hearts pounding.
They both knew what this meant.
They were risking everything—for something that might not even exist.
The den was silent. The air was heavy, and the stench of rot clung to the stone walls. As they stepped into the dark, a shape moved in the shadows.
A massive, corrupted wolf emerged—its form hulking, its blood-red eyes burning with silent rage. With a deep, guttural growl, it watched them.
New prey.
Who dares enter his home?
Ji Ung and Naran moved slowly, navigating the den with as much stealth as they could manage. They had to get to the back—to where the Lansing Steel was rumored to be hidden.
The Wolves' Den was a stony maze, filled with towering walls and jagged rock formations. Shadows moved in every corner.
As they crept through the darkness, they came upon a pack of sleeping wolves. Carefully, breath held, they tried to sneak past.
But fate can be cruel.
One of the wolves stirred—its nose twitching, picking up the scent of humans. It rose slowly, sniffing the air, then began to move.
Ji Ung and Naran froze.
If the wolf spotted them, it would alert the others. The entire den would descend on them.
They had to act.
"I'll distract it," Naran whispered. "You take it out before the others notice."
"Take it out? Isn't that too risky? Killing one of them here…" Ji Ung whispered back, worried. "Won't they know?"
"Corrupted wolves are still Wirens," Naran replied. "They don't care about each other. If you kill it fast and without using mana, they'll just assume it died fighting another wolf."
The wolf picked up Naran's scent and growled, bloodlust flaring in its eyes. It charged, snarling and foaming at the mouth.
"RRAAGHHHH!!"
Just as it lunged—SWOOSH!
Ji Ung leapt from behind, slicing the wolf clean in half with a silent, practiced strike.
"Nice," Naran whispered, impressed.
"We need to move—fast."
They slipped away just as growls echoed faintly behind them. Something… knew.
From above, the massive black lycan dropped down, landing with a thunderous thud. It stared at the remains of its kind. Its red eyes narrowed, and it growled—deep and low—before turning toward the direction Naran and Ji Ung had fled.
Eventually, Ji Ung and Naran reached the back of the den, slipping through a narrow opening between two colossal stone walls.
They had chosen this route for a reason. Going around the den would have meant crossing unfamiliar, mutated lands—where anything twisted by mana could await. This, as dangerous as it was, was the lesser evil.
Outside the den now, they searched.
Time passed.
And passed.
And passed…
There was nothing.
The Lansing Steel… it wasn't here.
Maybe it never was.
Their belief had been blind, built on a cloaked stranger's words. As the red sky began to darken again, signs of returning rain appeared.
"We need to head back," Ji Ung said quietly. "They'll assume we're dead."
But Naran stood still, refusing to move.
He clenched his fists, face filled with disbelief.
"No… it has to be here. This is my fault. I pushed this idea. I made them believe that woman…"
He stared at the ground, shame rising in his throat. "Trusting my gut—what has that ever gotten me?"
"Naran…" Ji Ung called softly, but he didn't respond.
He was lost in self-blame, spiraling. His words became weaker, his voice cracking.
Then—Ji Ung heard something. A muffled noise.
A cry?
He couldn't focus—not with Naran still rambling.
SLAP!
Naran fell silent, stunned.
"What the hell was that for?" he growled, holding his cheek.
Ji Ung didn't answer right away. He was listening.
Eyes narrowed. Body tense.
There it was again—a sound.
Not Naran.
Something else.
Something beneath them.
Something… alive.
Thick mist rolled across the ground. Every step was a whisper. Every breath felt heavy.
Suddenly—
SLAP!
Naran recoiled, clutching his cheek. "What the hell was that for?!"
Ji Ung's eyes didn't leave the distance. He raised a finger.
"Shut up… and listen."
"To what?" Naran asked, irritated.
Ji Ung tilted his head slightly. "Just listen."
And there it was—a faint, barely audible cry. Almost like a child's weeping, carried gently on the wind.
Without hesitation, Ji Ung started moving toward it.
"Ji Ung!" Naran hissed. "You're chasing a sound?! What if it's a trap?!"
Ji Ung didn't answer.
Naran cursed under his breath but followed. He wasn't going to let his partner walk straight into death.
As they moved deeper into the ruins of the Den, the crying grew louder. More real.
Then Ji Ung stopped—staring at something on the ground.
"Ji Ung!" Naran ran up beside him. "Snap out of it! That sound—it's probably some kind of—"
He froze.
Ji Ung was kneeling, holding something in his arms.
Or someone.
A boy.
His head was covered in blood, black hair clumped and wet, body limp.
"He's alive," Ji Ung whispered. "He needs help," Ji Ung replied, his voice low. In his arms lay a young boy—no older than seven—with jet-black hair, blood pouring from a gash on his head. He was unconscious.
"Why is a kid here?! Why is a child hear ? And how is he even still breathing?" Naran's voice cracked with disbelief.
he got closer, his pace slowed. His eyes widened as he saw the source of the sound.
But Ji Ung didn't answer.
Instead, he slowly turned and pointed to the far edge of the Den.
"Look over there."
Naran followed his gaze—and stopped breathing.
It wasn't just destruction.
It was obliteration.
A massive crater stretched out before them—charred earth, twisted limbs, decaying wolf corpses, and other monstrous remains littered its interior.
And at the center…
A jagged, pulsing mass of Lansing steel.
Over 120 kilograms, buried halfway in the crater floor.
But it wasn't just metal.
It was alive.
Veins of raw mana coursed through it, flaring with uncontrolled surges that distorted the air like heatwaves. The aura was suffocating—chaotic, unnatural. Every pulse echoed like a scream through Ji Ung's skull.
Naran stepped back involuntarily.
"Holy shit…" he breathed. "It's real."
"Yeah," Ji Ung said, eyes locked on it. "Too real."
"So… should we take it?" Naran asked hesitantly.
Ji Ung shook his head. "Can't you see what it's doing to the air? Touching it could kill us. Or worse."
"Then what do we do?"
Ji Ung glanced down at the boy, still bleeding in his arms.
"We go back."
"Through the Den?!"
"No. Around it. This time we don't fight—we run."
And they did.
As they sprinted, Naran noticed something strange.
The side of the Den they moved toward was supposed to be worse—home to monsters more twisted than wolves. Corrupted. Unpredictable.
But it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then it hit him.
They weren't mutated.
They were dead.
Everything on this side of the Den—beasts, Wirens, monsters—they were all slain by the raw mana pouring from the Lansing steel. Its influence didn't corrupt. It wiped out everything.
Naran pushed harder, adrenaline pumping. "If we don't get that kid help soon…"
"I know!" Ji Ung shouted back. "Just keep running!"
Back at Camp
Rain began to fall again, hissing as it extinguished the flames.
"Damn it!" Bonnds shouted, stomping on the embers. "They're not back!"
"Calm down," Micah muttered. "They'll return."
"What if the wolves got them?" Bonnds shot back.
Tension choked the camp. Ji Ung and Naran should've returned by now—even if they'd found nothing.
"Enough," Coroules said firmly. His mana had finally stabilized. "We wait."
He didn't say it, but the thought haunted him
If they're gone… do I lead the rest of the team into the Den? Or do we turn back and accept defeat?
He clenched his fist.
They had to come back.
They had to.
Time dragged.
Then—through the rain—
"Get the kit!"
Micah jumped, head whipping toward the trees.
Out of the shadows, Ji Ung emerged—soaked, bloodied, panting—holding the limp body of a young boy in his arms.
"GET THE FUCKING KIT—NOW!"
---